


Breathe Me

by ivorydice



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Illness, Pre-Canon, Self-Harm, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 02:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15087407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorydice/pseuds/ivorydice
Summary: When Ignis discovered the secret, Noctis was close to breaking down on the bathroom floor from fear alone.





	Breathe Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song of the same name by Sia.
> 
> I don't even know what this is lol. It was 5am and I couldn't sleep and I just started typing on my phone, and this happened. Written on no sleep, edited on a small amount of sleep, so I'm sure there's some typos that I've missed, maybe even things that don't make sense. Feel free to point anything out.
> 
> This was originally going to be a longer thing leading into a hurt!Noct fic during game events, but the fic didn't want to go that way. Oh well, maybe a sequel or something sometime. Who knows haha.
> 
> Please note that, while it's nothing graphic or in detail, this whole fic deals with self harm. If that's a trigger for you, then please take care.

  
  
When Ignis discovered the secret, Noctis was close to breaking down on the bathroom floor from fear alone. His hands visibly trembling, eyes kept purposefully averted, lips parted as gasps ripped from him in unsteady bursts.  
  
He held a small razor blade between his fingers and the cuts on his upper thighs were still bleeding a little, but those were minimal injuries and the danger of more being made had clearly passed. What concerned Ignis the most was the blatant terror on his face and Noctis’s potential panic attack if he didn’t get things under control.  
  
“It’s alright,” he murmured, crouching down beside Noctis, keeping his movements slow and his voice as soothing as possible. He feared he was, perhaps, being a little patronising, but Noctis responded positively to it, his head turning in Ignis’s direction and his breaths coming out a little less stuttered.  
  
“It’s alright,” Ignis repeated, and he reached out to run his hand through Noctis’s hair in a way he hadn’t done since they were children, when Noctis allowed himself to be more vulnerable and open with him, curled up under a blanket together and soothing each other’s worries and fears in soft, private whispers.  
  
He was whispering something now, and it took Ignis a few seconds to pick out the shaky, desperate, “Please don’t be mad.”  
  
Ignis shook his head. “Shh, I’m not mad.” Worried, yes. Terrified even, but certainly not mad. There was nothing to be gained from anger anyway, and it certainly wouldn’t help Noctis with whatever emotional pain he was going through.  
  
Noctis was staring at him now, timid and unsure, and so very guilty and ashamed that it _hurt_ to see it. “I’m sorry,” he was saying, “Ignis, I’m so sorry—”  
  
“There is nothing to apologise for,” Ignis cut in, and he meant it. If anything, he felt like he should have been the one to apologise for not seeing this sooner, for not noticing that something was wrong. He knew the only reason he had discovered it tonight was by sheer chance; he’d forgotten some of the paperwork he needed for a meeting in the morning and had quietly let himself in while he expected Noctis to be sleeping. He hadn’t been, and of course he had only left the bathroom door open because this was his own home and he obviously hadn’t been expecting Ignis to return at all tonight.  
  
But now here they were, in a fragile situation, Ignis’s heart pounding in his chest and Noctis sporting several angry red lines across his upper legs. It seemed surreal, unlikely, but it was all too vivid before him.  
  
“Can I take this?” Ignis asked gently, holding his hand out for the razor blade.  
  
Noctis’s eyes darted away and he swallowed audibly, but he handed the blade over. Ignis turned a little and placed it up on the bathroom counter. Of course, he could confiscate it, pocket it and hide it away so it could never be used again in this way, but it seemed rather pointless and a little ungracious to do so. Noctis had access to so many weapons, there was no point in trying to keep him from any of them.  
  
Noctis’s eyes were on him again when Ignis turned back to him. “May I clean your wounds?”  
  
Noctis swallowed again. “I can do it myself,” he croaked out, voice strained. There was confusion growing in his eyes, almost enough to take over the fear.  
  
“True,” Ignis answered, and he touched Noctis’s wrist gently, “but I’d like to help, if you’d let me.”  
  
Noctis was quiet for a moment as the first few tears began to fall, then he nodded jerkily.  
  
For the first time in a long while, he openly cried that night, curled up on the couch with his head in Ignis’s lap as his body was wracked with painful sobs. Ignis held him through it, running his hand through Noctis’s hair and doing his best to reassure him.  
  
Once his sobs quieted, there seemed to be some sort of wary relief in his eyes. Perhaps, Ignis mused, that he was no longer carrying this secret on his own, that someone else could finally see through the facade he had throughout the day, and he vowed to himself there and then that he would do anything he could to help Noctis.  
  
Two in the morning and they both needed to sleep, but they were still wide awake and on the couch, everything feeling far too raw and delicate to simply walk away from. He feared that, if he sent Noctis to bed now, if he told him they could talk about it in the morning, then this might never come up again and Noctis would carefully shut him out, brush him away and act as if everything was fine once more.  
  
He couldn’t have that.  
  
“Can I ask why?” Ignis spoke eventually, when Noctis’s breathing had calmed and the tear tracks on his face had dried.  
  
Noctis frowned, more thoughtful than angry. After a moment of silence, he shrugged and said, “I dunno. It’s hard to explain. And weird.”  
  
Ignis nodded. “I understand.”  
  
“Uh—” Noctis shifted a little to get more comfortable, but made no move to leave. “I guess it, uh—it helps?”  
  
Ignis tilted his head, genuinely curious in a slightly morbid sort of way. “How so?”  
  
“I dunno,” Noctis repeated, more quietly this time.  
  
“You can talk to me,” Ignis murmured. “I would never judge you on something so serious, you must know that. I only wish to help.”  
  
Noctis nodded. He was still tense, but seemed a little more encouraged at that, his shoulders relaxing a little at whatever he saw in Ignis’s expression. “I just get... _so_ overwhelmed sometimes, y’know? With everything. And it feels like there’s just so much _noise_ in my head, I can’t stand it.” He swallowed, eyes darting down, then back up to Ignis, then back down again. “Doing... _that_ —it’s like it drowns the noise out for a little while. Makes things feel...clearer.”  
  
“It brings you relief,” Ignis said.  
  
“Yeah.” Noctis sighed. He snorted then, his lips tilting upwards. “Here’s a stupid thought, but...think of it like refreshing a broken internet page, but for your head. For me, anyway.”  
  
An odd way of putting it, but he could understand the logic somewhat. Ignis found himself smiling a little, relieved that Noctis was still able to make jokes despite everything. He was still himself.  
  
After another bout of silence, Noctis murmured, “I don’t do it all the time. Just when things get really stressful and I can’t ignore it anymore.”  
  
The timing of this made sense then. He was studying for his final exams recently, his training had been getting more intense, and, perhaps the biggest factor in this, his father had had a recent health scare. Pair all of that up with the pressure his position as prince put him in on a regular basis, as well as the general pressure and stresses of growing up, it was no wonder he felt overwhelmed.  
  
But to _hurt_ himself in secret to seek some sort of relief from what he was going through—Ignis once again felt ashamed for not noticing what was going on, and somewhat impressed that Noctis managed to keep this part of himself so well hidden.  
  
“How long?” he asked eventually, almost fearful of the answer. If he had been doing this as a child, then Ignis didn’t know what he would do with himself.  
  
Noctis sighed again. “About a year or two. But, like I said, it’s not all the time. It’s...more of an on and off kinda thing.”  
  
Ignis nodded. “And it’s just your legs?”  
  
“Yeah. I can keep it hidden there.” Noctis grimaced then and ran a hand over his face. “Sorry, that sounded pretty bad—”  
  
“Please don’t,” Ignis said. “You have nothing to apologise for.”  
  
Noctis stared up at him, and he looked so young and open and vulnerable, Ignis ran his hand through his hair again in the hopes of soothing him once more. While not a constant, they had been more openly affectionate with one another when they were children, and sometimes he found he missed that particular closeness. He missed being able to reassure Noctis with just a simple touch or an embrace.  
  
“What now?” Noctis murmured eventually.  
  
“That’s up to you.”  
  
Noctis bit his lip, face scrunching up a little in slight distress. “I— _please_ don’t tell anyone. God, if my _dad_ ever found out…” he made a small noise, eyes drifting to the ceiling, “I don’t even know how he’d react, if he’d be upset or angry—”  
  
“I’m sure he would want nothing more than to help you,” Ignis said. King Regis was many things, but there was no denying how much he adored Noctis. If he knew his son was in such distress, Ignis didn’t doubt he would do anything within his power to try and help him.  
  
Noctis was shaking his head, his expression still one of despair. “I couldn’t do it to him. He already has so much to worry about, I just—I can’t let him find out.” He met Ignis’s eyes pleadingly. “ _Please_ don’t tell anyone, Iggy.”  
  
If Noctis was really going through so much distress and pressure that he felt the need to hurt himself to find some sort of peace of mind, then it would be better for him to seek psychiatric treatment before things could have the chance of spiralling out of control. But Ignis refused to force him into anything he either didn’t want or simply wasn’t ready for, and if that meant being his sole support in this then so be it.  
  
“I won’t tell anyone,” Ignis promised. “But perhaps...you’ll allow me to try and help you?”  
  
Noctis stared up at him silently.  
  
“If you ever feel like hurting yourself again,” Ignis explained, swallowing around the words leaving his mouth. It felt so strange to say it out loud, but he hoped the sooner they became more comfortable with saying it, the more comfortable Noctis would feel in opening up to him. “If things get so bad and overwhelming,” Ignis continued, “turn to me first. Perhaps I can distract you long enough for the urge to pass, or I can help you feel better altogether.”  
  
Noctis’s voice was hushed and thick as he said, “It might not work.”  
  
“It might not,” Ignis agreed. He brushed his thumb along Noctis’s temple repeatedly, another thing he had found comforting when they were younger. “However, surely it’s worth a try. And if it doesn’t work and you act on those urges again, then I will still be here to help you through it afterwards. But that’s only if you want me to.”  
  
There were tears building in his eyes again, but there was a relieved smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, okay,” he whispered. “We can try.”  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
Ignis did a lot of research after that first night, and most of what he read was what he had already instinctually felt.  
  
Self harm, he read, could be an addiction like any other. And like other addictions, forcing the person to stop both cold turkey and when they weren’t ready to move on could cause more harm than good. The best thing to do, he mused, would be to try and introduce safer alternative ways of coping without taking his current one away. Noctis still needed to feel in control of the situation, and giving him options seemed like a good way to go.  
  
And sometimes it worked, sometimes using another method or distracting him with games on their phones helped him get past the initial urge, helped him ride it out until he either didn’t want to - or was too tired to - do it anymore. Sometimes they sat up late into the night, either together in the quiet sanctuary of his apartment or on the phone, and they talked about everything and nothing until the urge was gone and he could fall asleep peacefully.  
  
And sometimes it didn’t work, sometimes Ignis would find out moments or days after, and always, _always_ , with that guilty, apprehensive expression, as if Noctis was scared that he would be angry or disappointed at a slip up. But he always told Ignis about it, despite his fear and however long it took for him to find the courage to break his silence, as if he didn’t want to be alone with it.  
  
Ignis did everything he could to reassure him. There was nothing else he could do, really. Patience and care were the most important things he could give Noctis during these times above all else, and that was what he would give.  
  
  
~&~  
  
  
On a particularly bad evening, Noctis slouched back against the bathroom wall with a hand covering his eyes, staying quiet as Ignis cleaned up his most recent cuts.  
  
It should have felt strange, perhaps a little awkward. The injuries were always high on his thighs after all, and Noctis had to roll the legs of his boxer shorts up, but all Ignis could think about was potential infections and doing his best to clean up the damage, learning the best and most efficient ways to go about it.  
  
And the fact that Noctis _let_ him clean them, that he trusted him and felt comfortable enough to let him close while he was at his most vulnerable—the honour of that outweighed any foolish awkwardness.  
  
“Do you think I’m weak for doing this?” Noctis asked eventually.  
  
Ignis paused, surprised by the question. “Heavens no.” He hadn’t missed the venom in Noctis’s voice either, clearly aimed at himself. “You do?”  
  
Noctis was quiet for a while, and then said, “I’m supposed to be a king someday.”  
  
As if that was a good enough excuse to doubt himself so. “Even kings are human,” Ignis answered. “Even kings have vulnerabilities and their own ways of coping.”  
  
Noctis huffed out a sigh and lowered his hand, almost exasperated in the way he was staring at Ignis.  
  
But Ignis refused to play along into the insecurities that Noctis’s coping method brought him. It might provide him temporary relief from his stress, but it always, inevitably, brought about shame and regret and feelings of doubt and self-worthlessness. Ignis refused to let him drown in some skewed image he had of himself when he had witnessed firsthand just how strong Noctis had proven to be over the years.  
  
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Ignis said. “Quite often you’re under an incredible amount of stress and pressure, and still you keep going. It takes strength to get back up when we’re down, to keep fighting through it.”  
  
Noctis’s lips quirked upwards a little, a weak smile, but still there and tinged with gratefulness. Eventually, he murmured a soft, “Thanks.”  
  
When they had first began this small ritual of theirs, of Ignis caring for him and patching him up after his moments of self-destruction, Noctis had always seemed hesitant to meet his eyes, shame and regret so evident in his gaze, still keeping a thin barrier between them despite how open they were with this secret.  
  
Now, however, he met Ignis’s gaze head on, clear and grateful. Still hurting, still ashamed of his own urges, but no longer shutting Ignis out in even the slightest way. “Thanks for always being here for me,” he continued. “Y’know. Helping me through this. It’s...” he swallowed, blinking a few times, then finished with, “it’s nice. Less lonely.”  
  
Ignis gave him his own small smile, nodding. “Anytime.”  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
A few weeks or so after that, Ignis was sitting up in his own bed and going through a few of his notes when his phone rang. Nearly midnight and with Noctis’s name lighting up on the screen, a flash of concern ran through him as it always did. He picked up the phone immediately. “Noct? Is everything alright?”  
  
A pause, and then an awkward sort of chuckle. “ _Uh—yeah. I, uh, sorry for calling so late._ ”  
  
“Nonsense,” Ignis said. “Do you need me to come over?”  
  
“ _No, I, um. I just wanted you to know. Uh—I’ve been feeling kinda...antsy all week, y’know?_ ” Antsy being his code word for feeling the urge to hurt himself. And since it was a particularly stressful time for him, it had been more than expected. Ignis was getting ready to push his paperwork away, to get his shoes on and head over there, when Noctis continued with, “ _But I just wanted you to know. That stuff you printed out? The different, safer methods?_ ”  
  
Ah, yes, he had left several sheets of paper with Noctis, some listing different, less harmful ways of coping, others with information on how to deal with situations, advice on if he wanted to open up a little more about his personal matters, and the like. “Yes?”  
  
“ _It’s just—I’ve, uh, been doing some of that stuff instead, and—it’s been helping. Tonight was pretty bad, but I didn’t...I didn’t immediately do_ that _. I tried some of the other stuff instead and it helped, and I just wanted you to know. So, it’s officially been a week since I’ve actually...hurt myself, and—yeah._ ”  
  
“Oh. Noct,” Ignis murmured. “That’s good, that’s very good. I’m proud of you.”  
  
Noctis let out a soft laugh then, shy and awkward, but obviously pleased with himself.  
  
Of course, there would be other slip ups, there would be times when Noctis would give in to those urges, but he had already proved that he could go a while without it, even during the stressful times. If he could go as much as a week without doing anything harmful to himself, then maybe, someday, he could go two weeks, and then a month, and so on, until finally he would be able to deal with his stress in a much healthier, safer way.  
  
It would take time and patience, but Ignis believed in him wholeheartedly, and one day this would all be referred to in the past tense and not treated as an ongoing situation. He would recover, and from his own strength at that.  
  
“It’s a Friday,” Ignis said. “How about I come over anyway, and we can treat ourselves to some late night fast food and any movie you like.”  
  
“ _Really?_ ” Noctis answered. He sounded delighted at the idea, happy, and it warmed Ignis through and through to hear. “ _That sounds great, Specs._ ”  
  
Ignis did push his paperwork aside now, getting up from the bed. “Then I’ll be right over.”  
  
“ _Hey, Ignis?_ ” Noctis paused, then let out a sigh. “ _Thanks._ ”  
  
Ignis nodded. “Always, Noct.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you or someone you know self harms, please always remember to treat them/yourself with patience, compassion and, most of all, love. There is an abundance of information out there, both on the internet and in physical books, and I encourage anyone and everyone to seek that information out if you are in need of help.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> You can find me [here](http://ivorydice.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


End file.
